By any normal standards, England’s performance in the European Championship was outstanding. The team reached heights it hadn’t for over half a century – and its off-field behaviour was dignified and sportsmanlike, a credit to England’s remarkable leader, Gareth Southgate. At the final whistle, the contest was a draw. The aftermath was a tragedy, requiring a “result” from a penalty shootout. This involved the ritual evisceration of young players’ emotions on the altar of entertainment. A penalty shootout is staged cruelty that should be beneath the dignity of team sport. It degrades a noble game to the toss of a dice. If more goals are wanted, then widen the goalposts. Otherwise honour the result: a sport that cannot accept a draw is not a sport, it is showbusiness. International football is identity politics reduced to absurdity. Driven to hysteria by advertising-led media, it is supposed to generate a sense of national euphoria. Success offers a psychological “high”, rendered more exhilarating by the equally hysterical depths of depression in the event of defeat. Like eulogising the NHS or the royal family, such public emotions are presumed to have a bonding effect that should not be decried, not least in a country wrestling with a pandemic. Yet nor can the corresponding divisiveness be ignored. The xenophobia, the booing of teams and foreign anthems at last week’s final matches were followed by racist attacks on three unfortunate penalty takers, Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho and Bukayo Saka. Football feeds the anonymised mob rule of social media. It is no good dismissing this as deplorable. It is part and parcel of sports hysteria. Will the one, and you pay for it with the other. Whether there is any long-term political gain from sporting success is much debated by pundits. Sports nationalism was exploited by totalitarian regimes throughout the 20th century, from interwar Germany to postwar communism. The consensus is that such boosts to morale have no lasting impact. England’s 1966 World Cup victory, like its defeat in the quarter finals in 1970 and the success of the 2012 London Olympics, made hardly any impact on opinion polls, either for or against the government. Yes, people feel good when things go well. But the Olympics was supposed to make us fitter. That did not happen. Elite sport glorifies athletes, not politicians. Boris Johnson’s exploitation of English nationalism has been equally dubious. He is supposedly prime minister of a United Kingdom. His dressing of Downing Street in the flag of St George sat uncomfortably with his angry insistence, in the face of criticism from France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, that he was devoted to the whole of the United Kingdom. There were no flags of St Andrew or the red dragon of Wales flying over Downing Street during this European Championship. Politicians who hijack sport for personal gain must accept the consequences. Britain has always insisted on entering four teams for international football competitions. Yet suppose Spain now entered Catalonia or Germany Bavaria, both more “devolved” provinces than Wales or Scotland? This summer a blatantly anglocentric Downing Street presented itself as ruling one nation. Had we entered one team representing the United Kingdom, it might not only have patched up the much-battered union – it might have won.